I blew out the candle in the hallway, took the broom, and proceeded to make my way to my chambers. Looking out the window, I realized that I had no idea how late it was; we were just out of earshot from the Chapel's bells. All I knew is that I was out much too late being much too morally questionable. My bedroll beneath me, I held the doll Uriel gave me when I first got here. I could feel his judgment from an eternity away. The worst part was, there wasn't a single bit of me saying "never again." I was hoping for "soon."

What surprised me is that I didn't run away in terror upon being touched by someone, especially an older man. Of course he looked nothing like Father, but I've had these issues in the past. Gnawing at me the hardest was, "We have met so recently. Why do I trust him at all?" Every little girl is warned about people exactly like him, people who appear so kind, but are secretly malicious and corrupt. But, if he admitted it, was he one of those people, or just a man whom nobody had taken the time to listen?

Every ounce of me attempted to dismiss his advances as platonic. Perhaps he was just happy to have someone around. Perhaps he was just trying to show his respect and compassion toward me. Maybe he's just one of those people who expresses their friendship with more touch than what I'm used to. Each excuse was more pathetic than the last. I knew what he wanted, and I doubt he wanted much else. The kindness was a ruse. It had to be. He could have anyone in the world. The moment some beautiful woman with actual power came, I would be forgotten as fast as I was met. Of course this didn't stop my childish dreams, nor would it stop me from letting him have whatever he wanted. With a sigh, I blew out the candle beside me and clutched my doll (that I was much too old for). A sick part of me wanted it to be him.

I woke up the next morning, noticing that it was already dawn. I knew that would happen. Tying my bodice as quickly as I could manage, I realized that I would be spending another day undoing the damages caused by both my poor performance and my late night awake. A bit of tea served to keep my eyes open as I moved through returning the clean (not damp, thank the Nine) linens to their original places. People were already awake. I was even later than I thought…

A knife moved to my hand near automatically. The apples and pears had to be chopped, had to be prepared, tossed, seasoned somehow. Perhaps some cinnamon, some sugar, something. I could tell I was panicking, fighting back the visions, which always seemed to surface when tensions became high. The fruits fell to the plates, I rang the bell, and sat next to my plate, praying this was enough for them, that they wouldn't make a jab at how late I was up, or that they would dislike what I made. They'd never voiced issues before, but there is always a first time for everything. Watching their faces carefully as they moved into the room, I noticed no hateful stares my way. Perhaps they were masking them. People are complicated creatures very adept at disguise. The master of said skill sat next to me once again. I wasn't sure if I desperately wanted to look, or if I desperately wanted to look away. The former ended up victorious, returning my gaze to him. His cheerful, friendly smile was unsettling. Just what was he trying to prove?

The faster I was able to leave the dining area, the better. I couldn't even hear the people surrounding me, none of them. Gods, help me, I was beginning to shrink into a world I've been desperately trying to escape. Every time it ends, I think it will never happen again, only to have my optimism crushed. As people began to diffuse back to their duties, I took the plates into the kitchen and washed the dishes with what water was left in the bucket. My vision was beginning to fail. I decided that the back rooms were going to be my goal that day, taking the bucket to the well and fetching another rag on my way. I had become rather accustomed to the days the demons struck. As the voices began, my hands hit the floor on the east wing. The library was rarely visited, anyway, nor was the armory. Focus on the rag, make the floor clean. Focus on the rag, make the floor clean. Clean until it's dark and then you can run. Biting my lip, I attempted to keep my mind in the tangible realm. Slowly breathing, doing something simple, focusing on something I can touch and see, all of these things kept the demons at bay.

The rest of the day proceeded this way, flatly moving my way through the duties that I had fallen behind on, blindly arranging my environment to perfection to keep them away. A sense of dread passed through me before I realized that I could quickly pass through and collect the linens, then proceed to wash them near the well in the back. My chin to my chest, I made my way through the west wing, gathering the linens from the floor. Jena always folded them kindly near the door. Noticing that Martin was now in the front, reading as he was last night, I was unafraid of briefly entering his chambers to perform my duties. His robes lay folded close to the door as well. As I piled them with the others, my eyes widened visibly- they were still warm. Thankfully nobody caught me clutching them; I did so for a length of time I am not proud of. The temporary return of my sanity dissuaded my guilt as I traveled back to the well, my refuge.

Call me insane, as one probably would despite this, I loved washing the linens. The sun was out, the breeze was gentle, and I was my favorite place, alone. I probably didn't need to wash them every day, but it rarely failed to calm my nerves. And, with nobody around save for the usual people sparring out front, I found myself embracing his robes once more. I knew it was pathetic, and frankly, rather disturbing. After all, this man had only given me a miniscule amount of his attention. The sun's height in the sky brought me great relief, especially since the only responsibility I had left was supper. Then, I could be behind a closed door. Almost there, Alice, almost the- RUN RUN RUN

I winced. Holding on was becoming more and more difficult. Walking through the great hall as if it were fire, I started planning the meal. I decided on a sweeter variant on the last night's meal to use the rest of the beef. I knew it was salt-cured, but I didn't want to risk anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Martin was speaking to a stranger I hadn't seen at the temple before. HIDE HE FOUND YOU …no, no, he was a massive Nord. My father wasn't that tall. Martin is bigger than my father. This man is bigger than Martin. My breath was quickening and my vision started to blur. No. No. The man is bigger than Martin and Martin is bigger than Father. Just to be safe, I knew they wouldn't find me in the kitchen.

The recipe was a familiar one that didn't require much thought, but I watched the pot every second, stirring it near constantly, preparing a sweet sauce from some of the fruit I didn't use for breakfast, holding on tight to the tangible world. MAKE IT STOP! My wrist met the pot "accidentally" as I stooped lower than ever. Stay here, stay here, stay here. I could smell my flesh burning, and I could definitely feel it… The blistering pain brought me back. My vision was clear. I only hoped I never had to do that again. The meat smelled done, and pleasantly so. Thankfully, it overpowered the burning of my…

Dear Gods, the agony. Looking only made it worse. Only once had I been burned this badly, maybe twice. Taking a knife to one of my aprons, I bandaged my wrist, crushing a bit of aloe and cairn bolete to dull the pain. If anybody asked, I would just smile, laugh a little, and tell them that it was a careless cooking accident. Serving the food was a bit of a challenge, but it did, at least, ground me. It took a bit longer than I would have liked, but a sense of relief occurred as I rang the bell. Each one of the Blades filed in and sat in their usual seat, however the Nord wasn't present at the table.

It burned. The pain wouldn't leave my mind, but it was forever better than the alternative. Thankfully it was my right hand; I didn't want to eat like an infant. My right arm lay hidden underneath the table. Martin didn't need to see this. As brilliantly as he's seen through me in the past, I wouldn't even let him see my arm.

I didn't even have to look to notice he was next to me. The same warmth I clutched like an arena champion's stalker graced me once more. Conversation quickly began about the table about the same cult mentioned last night, this time, it was much more serious. Panicked speech about the destruction of our realm and the end of times terrified me. This sounded a lot more like my fairy tale book than anything that could be called real. I had trouble even believing it. Normally, cultists are just squawkers of lies taken seriously by nobody, but they were clearly being taken seriously here. Dinner couldn't have ended soon enough.

The moment I could, I ran to my chambers. Shutting the door hard, I clutched my doll and buried my face in my knees. I hated days like this. NOWHERE IS SAFE Cowering, I hid underneath my blanket. The world was slipping from my grasp the entire day, but I couldn't let go. I couldn't let them win…

Harder. I firmly grasped my burned arm and almost screamed as I did so. It was no coincidence that I felt my awareness return, but there had to be another way. My book of fairy tales spread over my lap, I plunged again into the story of the valiant knight, as if I even needed the book to recite it. Anywhere but there. Anywhere but there… and sleep was not an option. The demons follow me there.

The battle waged on for hours. Every hour I fought, I realized that it was another losing battle. There were a lot of things I would do to stay away from…there. My dagger made its way to my hand. No. This can't be the only way… there must be another away. I should read my stories; I should hold my doll. Nothing was going to work. It cannot be the only way… one cut to my leg. I could feel them recede. Anywhere but there. Anywhere but there. Two cuts. Three cuts. Blood. So much blood…

And yet, my vision blurred. His whispers became the drunken bellowing I so despise. Four-five-six I can't live like this. A seductive touch that turned to fear the moment I shed a single tear. An arm pulls forward and I pull back. Cut it off. Cut him off. Run away. Fingers on my neck tighten as I know I can't fight back. Close my eyes and pray his grasp becomes too strong. It'll be dark soon. Cut it off. Cut him off. Run away.

Gasping, I realized what I did was permanent. My heart was about to break out of my chest. As the world began the fade, the pain began to fade, and I started to gain the peace I finally desired. It didn't feel like it'd be long before the darkness came to relieve me. Tears fell down my cheeks as I wondered for a moment, was this really the only way? This couldn't be the only way. However, it was the way, and I couldn't take it back.